Whatshisface
by CrypticMoonFang
Summary: I heard my mother giggle. "Sam, that boy almost tripped into his car staring at you." I looked over to the parking lot to see a raven-haired boy panic as he tried to back out, hitting the brakes HARD before he could turn, causing him to honk as he was thrown over the wheel. Please tell me that weird kid didn't like me...
1. Chapter 1

~Chapter 1~

You've heard a lot of sappy love stories, true or false. The romance is always a strong boy meeting a sweet girl. Pfft. That kind of thing could happen to anyone, anyone at all! Me? No, I wasn't a sweet girl, I was a Goth girl. I've had all my friends tell me I'm beautiful and shouldn't mask myself behind thick eyeliner. They said I should "let myself shine". But keep in mind that this was coming from the actual girly-girls. I was definitely not a girly-girl. I was a literature girl. I did what I did, and that was that. So what if I liked reading over shopping? I loved the arts, so kill me.

Sadly, Goths were supposed to like darkness and gloomy poetry and whatnot. I...well, I... I had a little secret—I adored romance novels. I usually hid that secret because let's face it, a girl like me caught reading sappy "I love you!" stories? Yeah. Kind of embarrassing.

Ugh, and if my friend Jazz knew about this...! Oh, I would never hear the end of it! And Jazz wasn't very good at keeping secrets; she would blurt it to the world if I let on to my secret love of romance reading. I was extra cautious around her.

I sighed lightly and smiled as I propped myself up leisurely in my bed to get more comfortable reading my book. Jared was one of those "knights in shining armor" to Kelly. I couldn't believe Kelly wasn't interested in him! He was both strong and sweet. He also happened to protect her from all those experiments gone wrong. Like when Atrophy came in and tried to attack Kelly with his blades, Jared kicked that stupid half-bio machine aside and finished him off. What did Kelly do? She thanked him and walked away! And then poor Jared was left standing there sighing in the battle scene. What would it take for her to realize that he was her Mr. Right? Crazy...

"Samantha!" I heard my mother call from downstairs.

"It's _Sam_, Mom!" I shouted back.

"Come down, it's time to go!" she told me.

Oh...right. I was supposed to go to the mall today—of all days! I wanted more than ever just to sit back and read, but no...

And I so didn't want to go to the mall right now... See, there was this boy working at the mall in one of those open stands, so that he could see everyone around him. I caught him, with his brown hair and green eyes... I knew he kept checking me out whenever I went there and I really didn't like getting ogled by some random guy I didn't even know!

But...the sooner the better...

**A/N**

**I'm sick of trying to keep up 2-3,000 wpc so this will fluctuate, but I'll TRY to keep it around 2,000 at least. And no, the guy at the stand isn't Danny.**


	2. Chapter 2

~Chapter 2~

At the mall I got—whoopdeedoo—unwanted attention from the boy in the stand. It killed me, honestly, to see someone look at me and probably talk about me like that only for my looks. I wanted to hurt him. Heck, I literally didn't have a clue who this guy was! What made him think he could just stand there and ogle me like that? Unbelievable!

As I tried not to glare at him—or pay him any attention on that note—I walked through the halls looking for any bookstores. Only my mom knew about my love of romance literature, so coming here with her was safe. Now, if any of my friends were here, I would dash to the nearest bookstore to find a tragedy or something. It would help keep up my image in front of them.

I couldn't help myself and looked back over my shoulder. The boy's eyes were on some other girl now. I felt bad for that girl...

I looked straight again just in time to see my absolute favorite bookstore—the Skulk and Lurk. It had to be the only bookstore in the world that had both dark, eerie book and passionate romance books. It also had both, which needless to say, impressed me to no end.

"Mom, I'll be right back. I have to check out the Skulk and Lurk to see if they have any new books," I told my mother.

"Okay, sweetie, but don't be gone too long. Meet me back in the food court," she replied.

I quickly turned around to dash off, but she immediately added, "Oh, and Sam? Try not to spend too much this time..."

I nodded just once and excitedly ran into the store. It was beautiful, lined thickly with books upon books. All different genres and even poetry sections. Oh, and don't get me _started_ on that new book smell! The only thing that would possibly make this better would be a coffee shop beside the Skulk and Lurk, that way the smell of fresh coffee would waft in and make it feel just so comfortable. It was a soothing scent to me and every time I got a new book, I would bring a cup of hot coffee into my room, put it on the nightstand beside my bed, and read. A little bit of coffee and a little bit of book was my incense.

I wasted no time—and I mean no time—in searching through every isle. It might seem dull to most people but looking for a good book was meticulous work sometimes. Well, I still loved it. It was always interesting to look through the summaries and find out what each book was about. There were so many original ideas. It was my job as a reader to separate cliché and rip-offs from original and unique.

I was starting to get into reading the summaries when I felt a weird sensation. I looked over to my left, sure I was being watched, but there was no one there. I looked to my right and behind me but again, no one was there. I decided to simply shrug it off.

A dark romance story caught my eye. It was possible that I could pull this kind of romance story off with my friends since it was supposed to be dark. And even if I couldn't, I would still enjoy reading it.

I checked the summary just be sure. Since it was a romance novel—as well as one that could be run by as completely Gothic—I made sure to slow down and not scan over it.

But a black werewolf falling in love with a swordsman's dark mistress just didn't seem like something I would want to read. It was a letdown, considering Gothic romance books at the Skulk and Lurk weren't exactly common. Normally it was horror or tragedy. I sighed in disappointment as I put the book back. Me and my stupid love of romance novels...

Sometimes I thought about just giving up and becoming like my friends—girly-girlish. But then something in the back of my mind scowled and I just wouldn't do it. I guess it was my own independence that held me back. I never thought of it as any kind of inhibition, but when it came down to personality changes, it was one.

I suddenly felt like I was being watched again and this time, I tried to zero in on my peripheral vision, slowly moving my eyes around to the point where they weren't directly facing something. I took out a book and pretended to be interested in it. Almost immediately, I decided to put the book back and instead of being interested in only one book, pretended to be interested in browsing through the entire shelf. This way I could look everywhere—so long as it was still the shelf—without seeming suspicious.

I carefully moved my eyes to the right and my plan worked. I couldn't get a very clear picture, but I could make out a boy with a white shirt, blue jeans, and red sneakers. I couldn't focus on his face thanks to the lack of flexibility in my eyes, but now I knew what clothes he was wearing. I swear, though, I had already been checked out once today by a random stranger and if this guy was doing the same thing...!

I pivoted on my heel, thinking I had him cornered and could see him more clearly than just through the corner of my eye. I was wrong. He was gone when I turned around. It was...creepy, to say the least. I could've been imagining it though. Maybe it was some other person—possibly even a female—that I saw and they just happened to leave. That person could've even been facing backwards.

Whatever. It was over and that person clearly wasn't here anymore. I still had that strange feeling though... The bookstore, having moments ago been my sanctuary, now gave me the chills.

I left to go find my mother at the food court. I'd already told her about the guy in the stand, so if I told her about this she would say something along the lines of, "You were probably being paranoid about him."

And for all I knew, I really was being paranoid. Thinking I wasn't only made it sound more like I was.

I dropped the subject and focused more on finding my mom. I probably wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it was nice feeling like I was younger again. I was about to go an out-of-state college in Tennessee, Cumberland University. It would be a long drive to my house and back every day, so I was going to have to get a dorm, which meant roommates. It actually did work out pretty well because Jazz lived about fifteen minutes away from Cumberland. She chose a good financial path and decided to live with her parents through college, that way a ton of expenses would be cut. But she didn't do what I chose to do—take a year off. At first I didn't want to take a year off and wanted to jump into college in the fall, just like in high school. I didn't want to disrupt the little pattern I had going on here. But then I wizened up and got this little feeling inside that told me I just wasn't ready yet.

Well I was now, after one year of being able to save up money. I was leaving in just a few short days, which made spending time with my mother important to me. I wouldn't get to see her nearly as often as I would like—we weren't too close, but she was my mom and I still loved her.

I caught her getting a soft pretzel and briskly walked up to her.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted.

"Hi, sweetie. You didn't splurge on books did you?" she said, wrapping a napkin around a steaming soft pretzel.

I held out my hands as proof to show that there were no books. "Didn't find anything."

"Well you have all those new books at home that you haven't even had the chance to open yet," she reminded me. "Why not take a break from looking for more books and finish at least one of the ones you already have? I know you're a bookworm but this is going a bit overboard."

I smirked. "I'm nerdy over my books—gotta have 'em. I just hope the Skulk and Lurk multiplied into Tennessee. I don't know how I would live without my books!"

My mother rolled her eyes but nevertheless smiled at my timely use of sarcasm. "Oh, what did I give birth to?"

I toothily grinned. "An epic nerd."

"Who hangs out with a group of girly-girls," she added before I could get in another word.

I playfully grunted and ordered my own soft pretzel. I never really did get how they made these things... It was fluffy yet pretzel-y. But I was always the weird girl who didn't like all that salt. I began searching for salt bits and pulled them off, dropping them one by one into my napkin. My mom used to try to "correct" this behavior but I still couldn't stand all that salt. She said I was OCD about it and that was probably true—I refused to let a single particle corrupt my poor, innocent pretzel. Every time she said I was OCD about salted pretzels, I retaliated with, "Well you're OCD about cleanliness but you don't hear me fussing about it." We would have to continue that little war over the phone when I moved out.

"So," my mother said, "Have you thought about him at all lately?"

I continued picking at my pretzel, this time only to have a distraction. "Why does that matter? I'm spending time with you, not him."

I heard her sigh and knew some sort of exasperated expression had come over her face, but I refused to look at anything other than my awesome little pretzel.

"Sweetheart, I know you've had a few conflicts with him and honestly, I don't blame you for not wanting to see him right now. But he loves you. He'll want to see you off this Friday," she said.

I sat down at the nearest available table and...oh, wow, this pretzel was simply fascinating! I was suddenly attracted to it and— Look! I'd picked off the salt and now it was edible! How absolutely interesting! As I bit into it, I suddenly noticed how superb the taste was. Better than any other pretzel, hard or soft, that I'd eaten before.

"Samantha—"

"It's Sam. Sam is more casual; it's not as stiff. And can you believe how amazing these things taste?"

My mother sighed and sat down beside me, putting one hand on my shoulder.

"Honey, listen, I know you're not on good terms with him and I can't blame you for it. He—"

I cut her off to finish what she wasn't about to say. "Texts me saying all of it was just a few mistakes! The only reason I get excited over it is because he still acknowledges that I exist. I'm done with him; all he ever did was hurt me."

Her hand moved from my shoulder and started rubbing my back.

"He does love you; he just has a hard time showing it. I know for a fact that you're not 'done with him' yet. I think you should say goodbye before you leave. You don't have to see him or even talk to him, you can text him if it feels more comfortable."

I grunted. "You're starting to sound like Jazz—always with the talk about closure and stuff. I don't need him anymore. And by the way, if he really did love me, he would've come to my neurologist appointments. But no, he needed his 'special time' with a bunch of girls! He chose them over me, Mom! You give me one good reason why I should give him one more second of my life, and I'll say my goodbyes to him."

"What about the time he took you out to that Mexican restaurant?"

"He only did that because he was dragging me along on a date with his girlfriend. That doesn't even count as _a_ reason, let alone a good one."

"I didn't want to pull out this card, Sam, but... You miss him. You still love him despite what he did," she said softly.

I felt tears sting my eyes. She was right. I loved him so much and I missed him even though I knew I shouldn't. I didn't know why I bothered to think about him...let alone love him. He didn't deserve my love or sentiment, and especially not my thoughts.

"Sometimes I dream about him actually caring for me," I choked out.

My mother put the arm rubbing my back around me and pulled my closer.

I wanted to hate him. He didn't care that I passed out with a knife in my hand at his house, when we were all alone. Sure, he took me to the hospital...but...why did have to be him? He just dropped me like I was a snake about to bite him. He left me. I didn't hear from him for at least a year after that; then one day I randomly get a text message saying, "How are you doing?"

I was so ecstatic about that one single text and stupidly lied to myself, managing to override the truth by burying it deep in the back of my mind and locking it up there. I told myself over and over that he really did love me after all.

But then, after I replied saying, "Good, how are you?" he didn't text me back. I didn't hear from him again for months. But...at least it wasn't a whole year...right? Didn't that count for anything? Yes, I convinced myself. He had changed, I kept telling myself.

I should've known I was only feeding myself lies.

I texted him once, this time on my own without him texting me first, and told him I had a neurology appointment. I told him I would like it if he came. I gave him the time, day, and address. He didn't come. He didn't even tell me he wouldn't come. He just...disappeared. He wouldn't speak to me for another month. He said he didn't get any of my messages and was sorry he couldn't make it. Bull crap.

But again, I placed my trust in him and once more convinced myself that hey, there was a chance that he didn't get my messages. So yet another lie helped bury the truth, which at that point was screaming at me to stop hurting myself.

The results of the appointment came back and I was due to take a few tests. They took my blood—the vampires took like four vials of it and gave me some orange juice afterward—and had me go through the usual physicals, such as my reflexes, eyes, etc. The final test was a 72-hr EMU. Why I went to an EMU, I didn't know. But I couldn't shower while I was hooked up to the machines. The EEG did, however, show that I had narcolepsy.

I told him.

My dad didn't care.

**A/N**

**If you like it, please don't hesitate to hit that review button. Normally my stories are never updated this fast but I wanted to make up for the first chapter. This chapter is exactly 2,795 words long. Oh, and there is more to Sam's background than just this. The strain on her relationship with her father didn't just come from this. There's a lot more to her and rest assured, it'll be revealed as the story progresses.**

**I also have to say that I'm SHOCKED. And I mean, who wouldn't be? This story takes off with 9 reviews, 16 favorites, and 20 follows! :D Holy cow, guys, thanks! I feel so honored, I really do!**


	3. Chapter 3

~Chapter 3~

I sighed as we walked out of the mall. I didn't know why we even came—we ended up leaving without anything. My mom didn't find any clothes she wanted and I didn't find my books. Thankfully she'd allowed the topic of my dad to die a while back, so I had gotten over my little emotional spell.

We were walking to the car—or at least the direction of it—when I was stopped.

I heard my mother giggle. "Sam, that boy almost tripped into his car staring at you."

I looked over to the parking lot to see a raven-haired boy panic as he tried to back out, hitting the brakes _hard_ before he could turn, causing him to honk as he was thrown over the wheel. Please tell me that weird kid didn't like me...

He gathered himself and gave me once last embarrassed glance before backing out—successfully and without pain this time—and leaving.

"Who was _that?_" I asked once his silver car was out of sight.

My mother laughed. "No idea, but he sure seemed interested. You know, you haven't had a boyfriend—"

"No." My reply was curt and, to my satisfaction, timed perfectly. "I don't know whatshisface over there. Besides, I have no interest in dating right now."

Her laughter turned into a long sigh. "Do I dare plan on having grandchildren one day?"

I chuckled. "Didn't think you would want any right now."

"Sam, you've never taken an interest in boys."

"Yeah, well, when a boy gives me a reason to trust him, maybe I'll think about it," I quickly retorted.

"Oh... Sweetheart, not all boys are the same. You've just had bad luck, that's all," she softly replied.

"Hmph. I'll believe that when I see it with my own eyes. Until then, _no_ boy is trustworthy and I want _nothing_ to do with them."

You know, I had the absolute best timing by saying that because this boring trip to the mall was literally going to turn into the most interesting and eventful day of my entire life.

So far, up until the conversation about my dad, things had been regular and since I came out of a bookstore empty-handed, it had gotten pretty dull. Then a weird boy knocks the wind out of himself trying to back out of a parking lot. And then...you would never believe what happened next...

I heard a short yelp. I didn't have one second to see where it came from or who made it before I felt a horrible pressure on my side—_right_ on my ribcage—immediately followed by an even more intense pressure on my chest, stomach, knees, and chin. Talk about a painful fall...

I heard a groan in front of me and lifted my head. This...weird apparition appeared in my eyes, but for all I knew I was hallucinating. From a fall like that, it wouldn't be surprising if I'd gotten a concussion. And...what hit me? Literally, what hit me, what made me crash into solid concrete? My entire front was still complaining. I wanted it to shut up—it's not like I didn't know what happened.

My vision was too blurry, which would've worried me if not for an equally blurry mind.

"A-Are you okay?" I heard an unfamiliar voice ask me.

I chose to stay still. Maybe I was locked in a dream. Or in this case...a nightmare. I had no idea what was going on! One second I'm talking to Mom, the next I'm trying to hang on to thread of consciousness.

I blinked a couple of times but my disorientation would subside. Right now passing out seemed pretty good—anything to get me away from this horrible confusion.

I heard rapid footsteps followed by, "Samantha, honey, are you okay?!"

Um...well, no. I quickly scanned over my body. Yep—it was all hurting and completely unwilling to move. I wanted to ask what happened but my body wouldn't obey me. Heck, my own brain wouldn't obey me.

I felt a hand being placed gently on my shoulder.

"I'll get her to the nearest hospital."

That was the unfamiliar voice.

"What?! No! This is my daughter!"

That was my mother's voice.

"Ma'am, please, she took a hard fall. I can fly her to a hospital quickly but we need to hurry—I'm not sure if she'll be okay. I-I hit her at 120 miles per hour; I'm not sure how bad her injuries are from that."

Fly...? What...?

"Fly? What?"

Yeah...that's what I was thinking.

"You don't know me?" the voice asked.

"I... No, I don't. But get your hands off my child!"

"Ma'am, please reconsider! If I hit her at 120, I can get her to a hospital at 120."

The voice sounded like it was begging for my mother's permission. I wish Mom would just consent already... My head was throbbing, I was suffering from poor eyesight and maybe paralysis, and I was too dazed to think straight. I tried to groan to prove that I was with the voice on this one—I wanted help.

I saw vague black dots flutter around my eyes for a second before growing bigger and bigger, eventually blocking out anything I could see—no matter how bleary my vision had become. Both voices soon faded as well. I just remembered one of them—to which at this point I couldn't differentiate—being frustrated but still polite, and the other frustrated and relentless. I couldn't tell who was who and by now I couldn't tell what was what.

My thoughts became broken pieces of images and logic. I felt myself fade.

It seemed like this all only lasted for about five minutes because I woke up not moments later.

Or so I thought.

I looked around me. There were cream-colored walls and a white ceiling. My first thought—they were still a little jumbled and messy—was that I was at some kind of unexpected appointment with my neurologist. By impulse, I reached up to my head to feel the wires and electrodes. I was shocked to find out that there weren't any. How were they supposed to monitor my brain activity without the use of an EEG? Unless...

I struggled to vaguely recall the events leading up to me winding up in a hospital room.

Let's see... My mother and I were just coming out of the mall. Um...we hadn't bought anything but we had eaten soft pretzels. We... What did we do next...? Oh! Right, we came outside. Um...what came next here...? Oh, oh, yes, the weird kid in the car. Okay...something else happened... Let's see, there was a quick yelp. Um...I got hit by something...and...uh... I-I couldn't remember anything after that. Maybe the hit had knocked me out on the spot. It was a very hard hit; that much I could remember. The whole front side of my body was sore, which told me exactly where I was hit...or landed, whichever.

I heard a delighted gasp to my right and lolled my head in that direction. My vision was restored for the most part, so I could make out exactly who that person was—my mother. She rushed to my side and leaned over the bed rails.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

I hated it when Mom worried about my wellbeing, so I smiled and nodded.

"Do you remember who I am?"

"Yeah... You're my mom."

"What year is it?"

Um...okay, the year... Darn it, what year was it?!

I shook my head. I knew something bad had happened, especially if I couldn't even remember what year it was.

My mother held up four fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four." That one was easy. It was the year that really got under my skin. I mean, who couldn't remember what _year_ it was? Day, sure, but the year?

"Do you remember if you have a condition?"

I nodded. "Narcolepsy."

She sighed heavily in relief and answered the one question I couldn't answer. "The year is 2013."

Well. That made sense, now didn't it? Because I couldn't remember it turning 2013!

Somebody was knocking on the door. I didn't bother to look. I just wanted to curl up and go back to sleep.

"Is she okay?" The voice... Hey, I remembered that voice! It was still unfamiliar, but I actually remembered it! Now...who did it belong to?

"You gave her a concussion."

Concussion?

"She couldn't even remember what year it was!" my mother hissed.

The voice suddenly became small. "I-I just wanted to apologize for that... I was looking behind me and I didn't see her—"

"Well, why were you looking behind yourself?! Why not in front, where you could've avoided tackling my daughter?!"

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry for that. I really didn't mean—"

"You be quiet! Who knows what else she can't remember!"

I felt bad for the voice. Wasn't the voice's fault it didn't see me. Wait. How in the world did I get hit so hard I got a concussion just from a person? That seemed humanly impossible...

I groggily sat up, having to rub my eyes in a successful effort to see properly again. I wanted to see who had hit me that hard.

I exhaled and looked up to find my mother beside me, seething with anger, and a—

"GHOST!" I screamed.

He jumped and held out his hands to calm me down. "I won't hurt you!"

I couldn't help but remain tense and uneasy, but his motions were slow. He didn't seem very threatening but...

I took a moment to study his features. He had white hair that helped give his emerald green eyes a glow-in-the-dark kind of look. His hair was actually very wild and untamed. His clothes consisted of black and white—a black shirt and pants, and a white shirt collar, belt, gloves, and boots. His entire body emitted a soft, eerie glow that, if it hadn't been daytime, would completely freak me out and give me nightmares for the next ten years. What looked like a white logo was on his chest. It looked like a "D" with a smaller "P" inside. DP... Wonder what that stood for...

Dark Person? Deadly Phantom? Destroyer of...Planets...or something? He was no doubt a ghost and everyone knew ghosts were evil things that had spiritual attachments to the world of the living. Maybe they had a sad death, or sought revenge on those who crossed them, or perhaps even had unfinished business—such as an atonement for a sin—with this world that wouldn't allow them to move on. So...what was holding him here...?

I was suddenly aware of—and I had no clue how I missed this earlier—a metal collar he was wearing around his neck. It reminded me of a dog.

"What's with that thing around your—" I didn't get a chance to finish my question.

He suddenly shut his eyes and stomped a foot down. A small, squeaky whine escaped his throat and his fists clenched tightly, as well as his jaw. His entire body convulsed and bucked and he stomped the same foot down a couple more times.

I watched in horror as he dropped to all fours and shook violently. The worst part was that he stayed that way for at least fifteen seconds, which was a very long time when I was actually watching it happen—whatever _was_ happening, anyway.

After those horrible fifteen seconds were up, his front half dropped to the floor and he groaned.

"What just happened?!" I cried.

I turned to my mother with wide eyes, truly horrified at what I had just witnessed. She only set her jaw and grunted.

"I was only trying to float..." the ghost wheezed innocently.

"Huh?" I breathed. "What? W-What's going on?"

My mother turned to me after assuring herself that the ghost would stay down—at least for a good few minutes—and answered, "If he tries anything funny, that collar cancels it out and shocks him. He won't be hurting you again."

I looked down at the ghost. Seeing him crippled like that, especially if he really was only trying to float, made my gut drop to my feet. I couldn't help but feel bad for him—the poor thing had just been electrocuted. And if he was that voice from earlier, then he was the one who took me to the hospital. Did...did that mean he was a good ghost? My guess was that he was trying to atone by helping me.

Although, if he was the voice from earlier, then that meant he was the cause of my concussion to begin with. I didn't know what to think of him now. I certainly couldn't think badly of him while he was in pain—so much that he was on the _floor_—but he didn't seem all that bad. Then again, he was about as dangerous as a newborn puppy with that collar on, so of course I wouldn't feel threatened. It was kind of impossible to.

"Hey...um...are you okay, Mr...uhhhh...DP?" I asked, not knowing what exactly his name was.

He dragged his arm from under himself and slowly gave me a thumbs-up. "Dandy..."

My mother grunted. "Serves you right for running over my daughter!"

The ghost let his arm go slack and his thumbs-up returned to his curled hand. The hand suddenly flattened and his fingers spread out. He tried to lift himself off the ground but failed. It was pitiful, it really was. It became a "third time's the charm" deal when he managed to succeed on the third try.

He took a few seconds to regain his balance.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not very used to walking," he mumbled. "It makes me uncomfortable."

His voice was hoarse and I could swear he was parched after an electrocution like that. I wanted to ask Mom if she could at least get him some water, but then I remembered that he was a ghost and therefore he was dead. A dead person wouldn't need water, so it would make sense that their nonliving spirit wouldn't need water either.

Besides, my mom was _really_ ticked at him right now. Something told me she would sooner make it worse for him than help the poor thing's throat.

"Uh... Hey, Mom, I feel a little weird... Could you go talk to a nurse real quick? Ask her if feeling faint is normal. Oh, and make sure you find a nurse that actually knows what she's doing," I said.

My mother immediately jumped up and rushed out the door. I knew she would do that. She would interrogate every single nurse in this hospital, asking about trivial matters, such as how long they were working here.

The ghost had watched her leave but thankfully didn't know what to do or where to go. I decided to take my opportunity to talk to him before he left.

"Are you the one who took me to the hospital?" I asked him, trying to make sure my voice sounded very sweet and comfortable for him. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel uneasy and try to float again.

He looked down and nodded. I found it odd that had yet to make eye contact with me. By now, you would think that he would've looked in my eyes just once. To my knowledge he steered clear of my entire face. I didn't know whether to be offended or understanding—this could possibly be some weird ghost thing that I didn't know about.

"Then why do you have that collar on?" I continued.

"Oh. Don't worry, it wasn't forced on me." He gently touched the collar, almost as if he was afraid that touching it too hard might trigger something inside it that would zap him again. "I agreed to let them put it on."

"Why? If it won't even let you float, then why would you agree to something like that?"

He took his fingers away from the collar and rubbed his other arm nervously. "I...uh... Well, normally I would just go away and let you be treated, but since I was the cause of all this, I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. Your mother wasn't too thrilled about that. She said I could stay _only_ if I wore the collar."

I groaned and threw my head into my hands. "You actually listened to her?"

He nodded again. "Are you feeling any better? I know I hit you pretty hard back there—but I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"I'm feeling fine. A little sore and a little fuzzy, but fine."

I lifted my head and found myself looking at his eyes. He immediately jerked them to the floor again. I didn't fail to notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

"I-I'm really sorry about all this. Your mom was right—I should've been watching where I was going. You won't believe it but I've run into helicopters before just because I wasn't looking."

"Okay, you really should stop listening to my mother. She's just mega-protective of me. Oh, and by the way, my name is Sam. Figured if you almost flattened me, you should at least know my name."

I held out my hand, hoping for a handshake. He hesitated. Maybe it was because of the collar. Well, wait, that's couldn't be right; the collar was only triggered if he tried to float or do whatever else ghosts could do. It could have something to do with his blush—for all I knew, I could be one of the few humans he had come in contact with, possibly even the first. At that thought, I realized that it must be lonely wandering aimlessly around with no real destination to reach. It made me feel even worse for him.

He finally shook my hand, then he jerked it back as if I was toxic.

"J-Just call me Phantom," he said. "Or ghost boy. Some people still call me Inviso-Bill."

I couldn't help but laugh at that last name. "_Inviso-Bill?_ You're just making that up."

He smiled. "No, people really do call me that. It bugs me to no end but they just won't stop."

"Okay, okay, wait. So you're Phantom, ghost boy, and unfortunately, Inviso-Bill? And you've never tried telling them what you want to be called?"

He let out a brief laugh. "I did try. My name is Danny Phantom." He held out his hand and I took it. "Nice to meet you, Miss Sam."

**A/N**

**It'll start getting funny soon, so just bear with me til then. And this chapter, by the way, is 3,282 words long.**

**Happy 4th of July, everyone! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

~Chapter 4~

I giggled girlishly and the moment I realized what I'd just done, I slapped a hand over my mouth and looked at him in embarrassment.

His smile grew wider. "Why'd you stop that?"

I rolled my eyes and put my hand down. "Um, hello, Goth? I don't want to act like a little girl at nineteen."

He suddenly pouted. "Well geez, no need to insult my inner child."

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry to insult your little boy side."

"He forgives you," he said.

He still wouldn't look me in the eye and that was starting to get under my skin. Maybe it was the simple fact that I didn't like being ignored, and lack of eye contact felt like a form of ignorance. Call it an overreaction but I'd learned the hard way about a lot of things—and males were the cause of each of those things. I knew I was being friendly towards a ghost but either it wouldn't last long, or I would soon distance myself and keep him at arm's length. It wouldn't be on purpose and I probably wouldn't even realize I was doing it, but I had conditioned myself to be that way—to harden myself against boys, ghost or human. I always felt the urge to brace myself for whatever they decided to throw at me. This one was no different from the rest—I was merely waiting for him to prove it.

"You don't need to call me 'Miss' Sam. I'm not fond of formalities," I told him.

He looked up for one tiny second before moving his eyes away again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just trying to be polite, especially given the circumstances. If we ever meet again, I'll make sure to call you Sam."

And bingo. He just proved it—mildly, but it was still proof.

"So you're going," I muttered.

"I have to. It was nice meeting you and talking to you, but... Well, I-I just really hope we cross paths again, minus the concussions."

I saw him frown before he turned around to leave. I was stupid to think I could make a male friend, or even an acquaintance. This time I wouldn't convince myself that he would magically come back and at least _try_ to get to know me better before leaving me again. After all, boys only existed to hurt girls. I was so sick of being hurt. I was so sick of lying to myself nonstop. Boys didn't change—I was _still_ trying to teach myself that lesson.

Maybe he was leaving just so he could get that collar off...

No! No more lies...

He added one last thing that for once, roused a little hope in me.

"Um," he said, "I-I don't really want to leave... You think maybe we can talk again when you're okay? I need to get this collar off—I can't stay grounded this long."

"Why?"

He sighed. "I'm used to flying. When I'm on the ground, it's like every last ounce of my freedom is sucked away and I start to panic. With this collar on, I can't get back in the air."

I observed him for a bit. He did seem pretty uncomfortable, now that he mentioned it. His feet wouldn't stop lifting up and he was rubbing both arms now. He was completely restless and it was only increasing, meaning that he might be starting to panic. I could tell he was itching to get out of here and back into the sky where he belonged.

"Wait," I said. "If I can just—"

I was cut off when he stopped fidgeting and backed up. I had seen the routine once and hated it.

He arched backward and fell to the ground. His legs began kicking involuntarily, sometimes moving him around and other times pounding on the ground. It was painful just to watch; I couldn't imagine the pain he was in right now.

He turned over onto his side and his fists and teeth clenched tightly. I saw green liquid run out of his mouth and I knew that couldn't be good. He was also starting to make a noise similar to the sound of static on a television. It soon became mixed with the whine he had produced the first time. I was getting scared now. I was getting really, _really_ scared. I had tears threatening to spill out! I had to help him!

But with that collar on, there was nothing I could do...

But again, it only lasted for about fifteen seconds before releasing him. The entire right side of his body continued to twitch but aside from that, it seemed to be over.

I noticed that his eyes were still squeezed shut. I wasn't sure if he was actually unconscious or if it was the electricity doing that. I tried to feel for a pulse but found none. I started to panic but remembered that he was a ghost—he wasn't supposed to have a pulse.

I leaned over him to tap his cheek.

"Danny, are you okay?!" Stupid question, but I wanted to see if he could respond.

He raised a shaky hand and formed it into a thumbs-up. Unfortunately, that was his right hand. It jerked from the high voltage still in his body and ended up slapping me in the face. I forced his hand down but didn't get mad at him. This wasn't his fault; he couldn't control the right side of his body yet.

As if I wasn't worried enough, the feeling of being slapped made me rip out my I.V. and punch the red button beside the bed—the one that would summon a nurse.

I got lucky and one came rushing in to find me paling and Danny still twitching uncontrollably.

"Get that collar off him!" I shouted to her.

"I-I can't, I—"

I immediately interrupted her. "I said get it off! It's hurting him!"

"It's supposed to hurt if he uses any of his powers!" the nurse argued.

I growled. "Look, I don't care what the rules of this place are, I said GET IT OFF HIM."

The nurse frowned but just as quickly became overwhelmed with my forcefulness. I glared daggers at that woman.

"Get it off _now!_" I screamed.

She jumped back in astonishment but finally did what I said, typing in a code on the keypad on the collar.

A small part of me wished she had defied me and left the collar on—because as she opened it from the hinge, small spines attached to the collar pulled out of his neck, leaving holes for the green fluid to dribble out of.

She lifted his head to take it out from under him and fled, collar in hand.

I rushed from the bed to his side and inspected the new wounds. What I assumed to be a ghost's blood welled up inside them and slowly began to squeeze out.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't—or maybe even couldn't—vocally answer me, so he raised another hand and gave me another thumbs-up. All boys lied...but none of them had ever lied trying to make me feel better in the way that he was lying now. He was lying to my face and somehow I appreciated it.

"Can you get up?" I asked.

Oh, wow, that was a horrible question to ask someone who had just been _electrocuted_. I wouldn't expect him to be able to get up after something that severe—not now at least.

"I'm fine," he murmured weakly. I didn't miss the slight crack of humiliation in his voice.

Liar.

I hooked my arms under his and almost jumped back. The first thing I noticed—before the ghostly coolness he emitted—was the tickling feeling of his body. I knew immediately that it was the electricity. Why it was lasting longer this time, I didn't know, but half destroying the poor thing was inhumane! And then to take away his freedom to the point where he panicked only to be electrocuted again?! My mother took it too far this time! I swear, once she got back, I was going to chew her out so bad she wouldn't even want to speak again! How would _she_ like to wear a collar like that? And to think! He agreed to that horrible device just so he could make sure I was okay!

"I'm so sorry about this!" I apologized as I began dragging him onto the bed. The boy needed that bed far more than I did.

At least his right side had finally stopped twitching. I was no ghost expert, but that had to be a good sign.

"It'th okay..." he mumbled, seeming to force his words. "I agweed to it."

What was wrong with his speech? I could understand what he was saying but it wasn't as clear as before. I had to assume it was the electricity that had done something to him—other than make him want to scream out in utter pain.

I chose to stay quiet until he recovered.

Unfortunately, my mother came back in and hated the sight of him being in that bed.

"What's he doing with his collar off?!" she screeched.

I stood in front of him, feeling the urge to put up some kind of shield after seeing him weakened so much by a thick piece of metal around his neck.

"Not being electrocuted!" I shot back. "Why would you do that to him, Mom?!"

"Because he's a ghost—I don't want my child being killed because of a ghost," she growled, staring past me and at him.

He seemed to be unconscious.

"Are you kidding me?! He gave you the okay to put that stupid collar on just so he could make sure I was alright! If he wanted to hurt me he wouldn't have let anyone snap that thing around his neck! How would you like to wear that—"

"Samantha, now isn't the time to get into one of your animal protests," my mom sighed.

"Ani-! MOM, HE'S NOT AN ANIMAL! I just watched him have a freaking seizure because of you!"

"I did what I thought was right," she snapped. "Now I am your mother and you will not mouth off to me like that."

I move out of her way and gestured to him.

"Does that not rattle you at all?" I asked. "Are you satisfied seeing him in that much pain?"

"He put you in worse pain than—"

I abruptly cut her off. "Most of what I felt was pressure and soreness, not the feeling of a billion watts lashing at every cell in my body!"

"He rammed you at 120 miles an hour and I will not allow that to happen again!"

"It won't happen again! What are the odds that it happened once, let alone twice?"

"There's a reason that collar shocked him, Samantha! He tried to hurt you!"

I gawked. "Hurt me? He didn't try to hurt me! He tried to float! Walking makes him uncomfortable because all his freedom is taken away from him. He's a ghost—all he does is fly. He panicked and tried to float but he couldn't thanks to that horrible _thing_ around his neck!"

As if on cue, I heard a groan and looked toward the bed. He was sitting up and, upon seeing that he was awake now, I ran to his side.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Saman-!"

"Stop it, Mom! He's not going to hurt anybody!"

I redirected my attention back to Danny.

His eyes were on my mother and he looked a little reluctant to speak. Considering how my mom was right now, I didn't blame him. But it did create an awkward silence—and I hated awkward silences. The air seemed to thicken and the emotions from everyone—me to my mom and Danny, my mom mainly to Danny but slightly to me as well, and Danny to my mom—made it become an insanely tense atmosphere. I was sure part of it came from Danny just being in the bed—despite the fact that I was the one who put him there. I could tell by her eyes that she hated it. She had no right to hate anything right now. She was fuming at Danny and I was fuming at her...and I think Danny was just sitting there wishing he could leave without my mom spouting off. His gender would matter later, but for now he was an innocent fly caught in my mother's web. I felt like I had to protect him from her wrath.

But then again, didn't I do the same thing for Dad?

I noticed the faint twitching of Danny's knee. Either he was getting restless, or that electricity had yet to leave him.

I wanted to tell him that the collar was off. He would know at that moment that he would be okay to float without any more harm. That way if he started to feel that bout of anxiety and unease he'd felt earlier when he was hit with a panic attack, he could float and feel the way he should—free. As a spirit he belonged outside, overlooking the living from the sky. It made perfect sense that with the collar, he would experience that enormous change from something that came naturally to him—something he was so familiar with that it might as well be a part of his very existence—to something that he could barely handle. That would be an unbearable shift in reality I was in his shoes.

I saw him start to rub his arm and knew he was getting too uncomfortable. He was going to panic again any minute now and he didn't realize the collar was off.

"Hey," I said, drawing his attention. "You're free. The collar's off—you can float again."

He put a shaky hand to his neck, wincing when he felt the injuries inflicted from his collar. He didn't seem to mind too much, though, because it only took a total of two seconds for him to shoot up into the air, phasing through the ceiling.

He left... Wh... Why?

Why was I even asking myself that question! He left because he was male, simple as that. Why did I even bother with him? He came, he left. Pfft. He just confirmed my conclusions. Boys sucked—I couldn't understand why I had to learn that the hard way. And then I was actually nice to him! I should've just ignored him, let him be... He would've left and they would've taken the collar off. He wouldn't have met me, talked to me...nothing. And he would've still had the freedom of the sky. In other words, he would've gone away for good before I got a chance to talk to him.

My mother seemed to sense my sudden distress—though she probably didn't understand why I was upset to begin with—and huffed.

"I'll go get a nurse. Aside from a concussion and a few bruises, you don't have any other injuries. Hopefully they'll let you out," she said, turning around and briskly walking out of the room. The door was all but slammed shut, which didn't startle me since this was just how she was when she got like this.

"Ith th'he gone?" I heard a voice whisper.

I cried out in alarm at the voice but settled down just as quickly.

"Danny...?" I whispered, just in case my mom was still in hearing range.

A recognizable figure materialized at the foot of the bed. I noticed that his feet refused to touch the floor.

He raised a hand and looked down, wiggling his fingers. "Boo."

I felt a smile trying to twitch upwards but I wouldn't allow it. Why would he come back, anyway? Didn't he have to leave? Didn't he have someplace else to be? It would be better if he just went away now—I was leaving for Tennessee this Friday.

"I didn't thank you fow getting that collaw off me," he said. "Tho I thanketh thee now!"

He quietly laughed as he did a somersault in the air.

"You have no idea how muth bettew thith feelth," he finished.

I couldn't help but smile at that. "It's just good to see you back where you belong—out of an electrocution device. I don't believe in trapping anything _or_ any_one_."

"Well then we thee eye to eye on that," he said. "I think I'll put togethew a pwoteth't to help ban electwic fentheth fow dogth."

I jumped up straight and clapped my hands to my mouth. "We should actually do that!"

"Would you like to be my co-foundew?" he laughed.

I held out a stiff hand—very business-like. "Why of course, Mr. Phantom."

He sat Indian-style in the air and playfully eyed me. "Oh, tho now the lady would like fowmalitieth?"

"Oh, hush, I was just playing."

"Tho wath I. Lithen, I could th'tay and th'at fowevew—not like I evew get the oppowtunity to—but ath a faiw wawning, I'll have to leave Monday. Pleathe don't take that pewthonally, but...thewe awe thome thingths I have to do," he said, mumbling the last part.

Today was Tuesday, and I had to leave Friday. He was leaving next week. And this time he didn't lie about it. He even told me _when_ he was leaving—not that it mattered since I was leaving before him; it was still a pleasant change of pace for me.

"Oh, and thowy about the way I'm talking. I've been th'hocked befowe, juth't nevew thith bad," he added.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I bit down on my tongue. You'll be thuwpwithed how thwong youw jaw ith."

I frowned. "Open up; let me see your tongue."

"You don't want to, twuth't me."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"I'll be fine, weally. It'th juth't a little thowe wight now."

"Open..." I said warningly.

He looked away and opened his mouth as far as it would go. Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut? The shock had tensed every muscle in his body to its absolute limit. His teeth had clamped down over all edges of his tongue and split them. It was horrifying and unbelievable—and it made me hate that collar even worse, as well as the fact that my mom made him wear it. The edges were now puffy and swollen, which perfectly explained why he couldn't speak so well.

"I'm a ghotht, tho...it'll heal in no time. Come tomowow, I'll be able to thpeak wight again," he said.

"I wish you didn't have to wait until tomorrow! I seriously can't _believe_ my mother made you do this!" I hissed, more to myself than him.

"Th'he wath juth't twying to pwotect you. I would nevew huwt anyone, but th'he didn't know that and neithew did you when you fiwtht woke up. I get that weactthion a lot tho it'th not exactly thuwpwithing. But thith time I would thay..." He snickered. "I would thay it wath _th'hocking!_"

"If someone were to use that pun on you, it would be considered insensitive and offensive. And you just used that pun on yourself," I pointed out.

"Yeth. Yeth I did. That'th why it'th not anything to me. I punned mythelf!" he said, playfully smirking.

"And you're proud of it," I added.

He moved his jaw around a little and frowned. His tongue had to be killing him right now, despite him telling me it was "just a little sore".

"Hey, are you sure you're alright? You want to some water or anything?" I asked.

He held his hands up and smiled. "Oh, no, I'm fine. It'th you I'm wowied about. You took a pwetty bad fall. Bethideth, I thowt of dethewved thith. If I had juth't been watthing whewe I wath going, you wouldn't be in the hothpital wight now."

"I'm fine, Danny, geez. You got hurt too, you know," I reminded him.

He shifted uneasily. "A-Actually...I didn't. Ath a ghotht I'm pwetty thturdy." He gestured to his body. "The only thing that can huwt me ith anothew ghotht."

"What do you mean, 'another ghost'? Why would ghosts want to hurt other ghosts?" I questioned.

"Well, one of them want'th to hunt me and hang my pelt on the foot of hith bed."

"That's disgusting."

"One of them ith the ultimate kill viruth—he'th thtwong but annoying and he thouts hith motiveth to the thky. I alwayth know what he'th up to."

"Stupid viruses."

"One of them wantth to take me to jail."

I perked an eyebrow. "Didn't know _you_ were the bad boy type."

"Oh, ha ha," he drawled. "One of them ith a therapitht...thowt of. Th'he feedth on mithewy tho th'he findth wayth to make people mithewable."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

He merely looked at me. "Who?"

I sat down on the bed and looked away, glaring at some other object. "Doesn't matter. They mean nothing to me now."

Liar.

**A/N**

**Well, I hope you can translate Danny's new little language. "S"s and "sh"s are both "th"s and "r"s are "w"s. If you bite down on your tongue hard enough and the edges split, they swell and HURT so you start talking like...well...that. And don't anyone tell me I'm wrong on this because I wrote the whole tongue thing from personal experience.**


	5. Chapter 5

~Chapter 5~

I sighed heavily as I flopped onto my bed. Reading time...at long last... Hopefully my concussion would be a perfect excuse to R&R—rest and read. Even more relaxing would be no parental interruptions—scratch that; no _maternal_ interruptions. If my dad suddenly came in—fat chance—I would flee the house. I would sooner jump out the window than look at a single _hair_ on his head. I hated the man just that much.

But...we did have a few good times. Sure, they were fake and possibly even imaginations that I'd forced myself to believe—I'd done that so much to myself that parts of my past with him were fuzzy, being as I had no clue if it was actually real or not—but even in my mind...they were wonderful.

Once of them was a simple fishing trip he had taken me on when I was probably...what, six? No, no, I had have been about four. People kept saying I was crazy to "remember" something from that long ago, but that was a real memory—my mother even told me that and she never lied to me.

In the boat, I was told to be very quiet or I would scare all the fish away. He gave me one of the smaller rods and showed me how to cast the line, throwing it back, then over his shoulder. I got it right on the first time. I couldn't remember his reaction to that. Being four at the time, I couldn't stay quiet for more than ten minutes. We ended up completely fishless. I had a great time...but that was back when I thought the world of him.

Another memory I had was also water-based. We used to have a jet ski. For the longest time, I was forced to ride in back, behind my dad—I was still very young when this happened, probably around five or six. One day my dream came true when he put me up front and let me drive the thing. Big. Mistake. I performed perfect hops through the lake, gracefully bouncing straight off waves and catching air before coming back down to repeat the cycle. My dad was practically hanging over the back shouting, "Stop! Sam, STOP!" I was just laughing my little head off.

The last memory I had was actually of Dad's truck. He used to own a burgundy Toyota. One day he drove into a hayfield and let me steer—he worked the pedals and I sat in his lap. I had an absolute blast—maybe the best day in my childhood life. I loved trying to show off my "skills" by getting that truck as close to the hay bales as possible without touching them. I remembered succeeding on one, but I couldn't remember the rest.

Those memories never changed...and neither did my dad.

* * *

I finished lugging the last of my bags into my car, which wasn't easy when you didn't have the biggest trunk in the world. Even my back seats and passenger seat were filled up. I managed to make it work though.

I chose not to bid farewell to my father. He wouldn't come to see me off no matter what, so why did he deserve to have me come over and say goodbye? I wouldn't regret this...hopefully. I sighed, knowing that in the end, I would.

But I would cross that bridge when I got there. For now, it was me and my exciting dreams for Cumberland University. It was so nerve-wracking though! For a very brief moment I wondered whether I could actually make it to the highway without getting too nervous.

"You anxious?" my mother said as she put a hand on my back.

I took a deep breath. "A little." I turned around and hugged her. "Goodbye, Mom. I'll make sure to call you once I get there."

She cupped my cheeks and kissed my forehead. "My baby's all grown up... What am I going to do?"

I chose not to procrastinate by sticking around chatting—it would only make my anxiety worse and goodbyes were hard enough anyway.

I waved as I got into my car and started it up. I couldn't stand to look back at my mother, so I focused on backing out of the driveway. I didn't have to see her to know she was waving and blowing kisses. A part of me felt bad for leaving her but another part of me just wanted to get it over with so I could go to college.

As I was backing out, a quick flashback of that weird black-haired kid galloped across my mind. I smiled, holding back a tiny laugh. Glad I wasn't him, getting my lungs busted up by a steering wheel while randomly honking.

I told myself that this was it, this was actually happening! I drove up to the exit of my neighborhood and stopped at the sign. In front of me was the highway and it was always busy with traffic—once I got caught up in it for so long that my car ran out of gas and I had to get it towed—so I had to move fast.

I picked up the map and spread it out across the dashboard, looking at the red line that signaled where I was supposed to go. It looked like Tennessee was doing road work on 840, and unfortunately that was one of the main roads near Cumberland. I would have to find a way around that. Oh well... I would stop at a gas station later on and worry about it then. For now I had to get going—people were stacking up behind me since this was the only exit in our entire subdivision.

I flipped on my right blinker and took another quick look at the map.

I heard a honk behind me. Geez... I hadn't even been here too long...

I waited for a few more cars to pass before I found an opening and went for it. The speed here was 50 and would increase to 55 just a little ways down, so I hit the gas as hard as I could to keep pace with the traffic. Hopefully there wouldn't be a— Oh... Wow...

I slowed down to a stop at the first _green_ light. Cars were backed up as far as I could see. I couldn't move into the intersection... Oh, just great. Just great!

I rested my head on the wheel and almost cried. I had a long enough drive already... Now I just got out of my house and I was already stuck in rush hour traffic...? Too much! Especially remembering what happened the last time I got trapped between thirty cars in front and thirty cars behind...

I checked my gas tank. Just a little below full, thankfully. Or should it be unfortunately? I didn't want my car towed again. And it wasn't just my car; half of everyone else's cars broke down as well. It wasn't a fun day for anyone, especially the carless people who had no air conditioning on that hot summer day. Most of them, me included, had gotten out of our vehicles to both stretch our legs and escape the boiling temperatures inside the cars. Our windows were rolled down and everything—it was just horrible.

I looked in front of me and saw a tiny gap that I could move forward to. I slowly let my toe off the brake, letting my car roll forward probably about a foot. I pressed on the brake again and put my car in park. I could see several people in front of me change their gears too.

I sighed and rested my head again. Most of the time when I got stuck in any kind of traffic, I kept my mind busy with a little game I had invented—say all the words you can starting with a certain letter. I chose the letter s.

"Stay, salute, stomp, stampede, startle, swap, swamp, shout, sharp, subtle, subtlety, sip, sap, shamrock, sauce, silicone, sulfur, styrofoam, silk, shatter, slam, sit, soot, stoop, slew, slow, sour, saturate, slap, sleep, slumber, sell, seal, sea, seashell, shell, shop, shoplift, steal, sorrow, sorry, sentiment, sediment, slaw, slaughter, sun, son, sunshine, sunray, saunter, scallop, scallion, stamp, still, stilled, stiff, strike, stroke, stone, settle, slum, slump, sum, stag, stab, start, stop, stowaway, stow, stove, shrimp, shellfish, serpent, sea star, starfish, stun, sin, sinfulness, stick, spawn, switch, sole, soul, squeeze, sniff, sniffle, swift, spray, sand, sandals, shock, shocking, stock, stocking, stoke, spine, spike, shingle, single, snake, stand, side, slide, slid, soap, snippet, snip, snicker, sneer, steer, straight—"

I was cut off by an incredibly loud noise in front of me and immediately put my car in drive, just in case—even though it wouldn't help considering there was nowhere to go without crashing into another car.

A familiar figure shot across the intersection, but I couldn't quite make out who it was. Or... No way... Tell me that wasn't...

Danny flew up from behind a building and angrily looked around him, which made me wonder what was happening that was so important he needed to fling himself in front of cars trying to get through green lights during rush hour.

My question was answered soon enough as a dark, formless being—I expected it to be, after hearing what he said in the hospital a few days back about fighting other ghosts, another ghost—rose to chase Danny around. During the chase around and _through_ buildings and all throughout the highway, I saw why the ground scared him so much. If a ghost came to attack at the moment he had the collar on, which grounded him, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it except hide and hope he wasn't found. On the ground he was just so..._limited_. He really was restricted and having such a small chance to get away... Well, that sentence didn't even need to be finished.

I rolled my window down when I saw his mouth move.

"Now where's Johnny?" he demanded. "Finally give up on having you do all the work? Don't blame him. You fail every time, dontcha?"

The form rumbled and lunged after him for a second time, only to miss as Danny suddenly disappeared.

He reappeared underneath the other ghost and rammed it from below. I heard it shriek in pain as it began burning from the bright light of the sun. So he knew this ghost... And he knew its weaknesses... Just how often did he have to fight other ghosts—others of his own kind? And what motive did they all have for going after him? One of them wanted to hunt him like a wild animal but why? My best assumption was that Danny was a fugitive; a wanted ghost in the ghost community.

Maybe he really was the criminal type but never let on. Maybe he _had_ been the criminal type but changed. It was hard to believe that the same person who brought me to a hospital to get medical help was actually a bad guy.

I watched in curiosity and wonder as smoke rolled across the dark figure. It soon dissipated into thin air. Was it possible for a ghost to die?

"Next time I see you better be at a circus!" he shouted into the air, giving me the implication that the ghost was still around somewhere but had fled.

He turned toward the intersection and flew back the other way—this time more slowly and much higher than before. I wondered if the reason he had been looking behind himself was the same reason he hit me so hard—he could've been running from a ghost that I never noticed.

There were no hard feelings about that hit but with the knowledge that I had practically harbored a wanted fugitive... But then at the hospital he agreed to wear a torture device just to placate my mother, that way he could see me unharmed. True, he gave me a concussion, but it wasn't that bad and he wanted to make sure I was fine. He could've simply phased through the walls of the hospital but instead he submitted to my mom's little rules about being there. How was that a sign of evil? He shocked himself twice—as far I knew, anyway—just to see me. Each time had clearly sent agony ringing throughout his body. Part of me wished he'd have screamed instead of trying to hold it in just because of me. It was probably because he didn't want to scare me.

Yeah, because watching someone get fried right in front of you obviously wasn't scary.

But...he was male, so...why did he do that for me? No boy had ever done anything like that before...

No. It was a fluke or something—he didn't even come to see me after I got out of the hospital. Then he finally pops up out of nowhere and it wasn't to talk to me or anything. No, it was to fight off another ghost. And then he just flew away, just like that! Apparently I just wasn't as important to him as I originally thought.

But...whatever. I just... I was so sick of boys. They sucked, they didn't serve any purpose except chasing girls for their bodies, and their stupid ego made them show off—which was why car insurance for teenage boys was more expensive than it was for teenage girls. Boy weren't even boys, they were just..._males_ of the human species.

I sure didn't need them and I was tired of putting up with them. Danny finally slipped up by abandoning me even after he said he wanted to talk to me after leaving the hospital. My faith in boys was officially gone.

And no one could convince me otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

~Chapter 6~

Well, I had my car towed to the nearest gas station on the way thanks to that traffic jam, but I finally made it to Tennessee. The detour on 840 really knocked me off balance there for a while and I had to stop at another gas station to find a way around it. I didn't know the roads very well and I had never been to Tennessee before so I wasn't expecting the back roads here to be so tight and unforgiving. Not only that, but they moved _with_ the land, not through it. I had trouble steering my car on those tight roads with no shoulders around hills and ditches and even marshy parts. I would admit that a part—okay, most—of the route I had to take held amazing scenery. The air was so fresh I even let down my windows. It was country land for miles upon miles. I saw countless cows and horses, sheds and barns, fences and stables... I even saw dogs roaming free as if the Tennesseans didn't care if they chased down an animal—then again, I was now in the South and hunting was a very big deal down here.

There were so many farm animals, like pigs, chickens, and I even saw a donkey. People owned massive amounts of land and they were putting all those acres to good use. I loved seeing the horses have such a big pasture to run around in. And there were deer and squirrels everywhere! I saw about a hundred adorable fawns—tiny little things with their white spots and big beady eyes. Those long legs on such tiny bodies were just so cute! I was actually laughing at them, not because they looked funny, but because they made me feel all warm inside. And I saw a litter of kittens. I was dying to pick them up but remembered that down here, animals were allowed to go wherever they wanted. It was amazing because I'd seen several dogs chase after my car before quickly obeying a single whistle from their owner and returning ever so faithfully. Needless to say I was impressed. They certainly had a way with animals down here, being able to keep them without caging them—something I could get used to.

I arrived at my dorm and opened the door, already eager to meet my new roommate.

To my surprise, there was no one else in there. I assumed I was the first and started exploring, dropping my things at the entrance and looking around. It wasn't bad. It was roomy, comfortable... It had a sort of homey feel to it.

I went to my bed and laid down on it. Hmph. If only my dad could see how far I've come... I hadn't seen him in years. Then I would see a text from him and smile—as if I hadn't punished myself enough by doing that. I would work up every ounce of courage I had in me just to say hi. Whadya know, he never texted back. But the moment was precious to me while it lasted. It hurt me bad to ignore the texts. Thankfully—aka, unfortunately—I would only hear from him every few months, no less than. I wished so badly that he was here with me right now, at least congratulating me and acknowledging that I was working hard... And for the longest time I wasn't working for myself. I was working for my father. I studied for him. I aced my classes for him. I graduated with honors for him. But hey, you know, if it doesn't matter it doesn't matter. It wasn't like I ever had a shooting star to wish on. Even if I did, it wouldn't come true.

But even so, what was I going to do about the major moments in my life? What about college graduation? I could invite him... It was a huge milestone... But then my mother and her side of the family would be there and I just... I didn't know what to do with that. I could invite his side of the family but not him...maybe? Well that wouldn't be awkward, now would it?

I sighed. Why was I such an _idiot?_ Why couldn't I just let it _go_ already? Nineteen and he never cared about me since...well, since I could remember, really. I watched some home videos. They were of me when I was little. They were funny...up until one clip that I just never knew existed.

I chose not to bring that clip up in my head. Memories sucked. Yeah, my mom had run into a door on the video, but... It just wasn't funny anymore. I had a ton of regrets; watching that horrible clip was one of them. Not like it mattered though. Anyone who heard me talk about my dad would just laugh. It hurt to me, it hurt bad...but others wouldn't see it that way. Their dads loved them. They protected them and they didn't... Whatever. That was also in the past.

I felt one lone tear try to slip down my cheek. I let it, but only because I knew wiping that one away would stimulate more to seek revenge or something. Besides, there was nothing I could do. I cried in my sleep, waking up to dried tear trails of dreams I knew were about my dad. My roommate would love that, I was sure. It was a good thing I couldn't remember those dreams—most of them anyway. The rest were locked up in an already full vault in the back of my mind. They were gone. Done with. Away from me.

I sat back up and tried to think about something else. I hated (loved) my dad. He meant nothing (everything) to me. Never mind him, he was just...a... I inwardly growled. He was something. I couldn't bring myself to put it any other way.

I directed my thoughts to other things. For the longest time—at least it seemed to be a long time—I fantasized about what it would be like living with someone else my age. I didn't have any siblings and all my cousins were younger than me—plus, they didn't live in Tennessee.

And what about Danny? He was the closest thing to a male friend I'd had in twelve years. Twelve years was a long time... He had been friendly and nice—he even stuck around in the hospital to talk to me instead of suddenly leaving on the spot—up until I was released from the hospital. He never came back to talk to me like he said he would.

Oh. Wait a minute... I never gave him my address! And great, now I was all the way in Tennessee and he said he was leaving for somewhere on Monday... I doubted we would ever see each other again.

At least I had Jazz. She lived fifteen minutes from Cumberland so it wouldn't be hard coming over every now and then. She was super smart and could help me study.

The problem here would be the change in accent. At a gas station I had immediately picked up on a country/Southern accent. The usage of improper grammar and slang made it sound pretty stupid but hey, Cumberland was here in Tennessee—it was guaranteed to have that kind of slang and accent. It was a college of high prestige so obviously the people were smart; but their accents...not so much...

Come to think of it, Danny had a bit of an accent to him. I wondered for a moment if he was from the South, and if he was headed back to the South. Tennessee and Kentucky had to hold the most farmlands so maybe he was from one of the two states. Or maybe he was just raised here before he died—the accent would've stuck.

I couldn't help but wonder...how did he die? Why did he change his last name to "Phantom"? Something told me that wasn't his original name. And hey, what about all those ghosts chasing him? Strong possibility that he was a fugitive but what if he wasn't? What if, by a slim chance, he was just some random ghost who...well...who rammed me at 120 mph? I doubted he just a random ghost. Where did he live? Even ghosts had to have homes, right? And speaking of which, where had he stayed when he met me? I'd never once seen a ghost where I lived but I saw them all the time on the TV. I was pretty sure that the world had grown used to seeing ghosts.

Oh, why was I even thinking about Danny? Chances were I wouldn't see him again. And if I did, he would probably be fighting another ghost, then shoot off into who-knows-where. Maybe it was fine if I thought about him a little. I mean, unless it was a waiter, cashier, teacher, or my dad, I never talked to males. Animals were fine—I loved them to death—but human males just...weren't. They never would be. So upon seeing a ghost boy—Danny Phantom, as he liked to be called—I naturally felt a little more comfortable with his gender. The fact that he was something new, something I had never seen before, scared me at first, but he was friendly in the end. Although, even now he was still creepy. And this was in my memory, so that _had_ to say something!

Not that I would ever tell him that, though. He gave me the chills and a concussion, but he was okay. He wasn't human, and that worked out well in my books. My mother's books...not so much. But I was in charge of my life and if I said he was okay, then he was okay—on my terms, being as my mother hated his ghost guts already and wouldn't change her mind for the millions of dollars we already had.

I really couldn't help but think a little more about him, a little deeper... I wanted to know things I couldn't comprehend. How did he become a ghost? What was death like? Did an afterlife really last forever? How old was he when he died, and how long had he been a ghost for? What exactly _was_ a ghost if not a supernatural being born of spite? He didn't seem very spiteful to me. Our time together was short, granted, but his temper could be easily read. I was surprised, even looking back on it now, to see that he remained calm even after being shocked twice. I would've imagined that as a ghost, he would've acted at least somewhat aggressively. But no, he only stared in fear at my mom.

Wait a minute... That was weird... He was _scared_ yet he did nothing about it. The fact that he was scared of my mother was one thing—she could be the most frightening creature on the planet sometimes—but the fact that he didn't go against her will was astonishing. He had been at the hospital only because my mother gave him permission. He had chosen to wear that collar to honor her wishes even though he could do whatever he wanted to without it—including staying at the hospital. Why did he do that?

As a ghost, he shouldn't have cared about a human, about some inferior being. And yes, as much as I hated to admit it, I knew ghosts were stronger than humans. I knew of weapons that humans had invented, but ghosts didn't have to reload or charge up. They sort of came with a built-in one.

They really were something else, but I guess Danny was something more. He was a strange ghost. It was like he had malfunctioned or something and didn't act like the others. What happened to him? That question was killing me, as well as thousands of others I knew I would never be able to ask.

I chose to roll over and sleep. I didn't change clothes, didn't brush my teeth or hair, didn't do anything really... It had been such a long day and I was so tired... I could think about anything I wanted to tomorrow, when I was officially in my first year of college.


	7. Chapter 7

~Chapter 7~

The next morning was met with a feeling of dread and excitement. I already knew colleges weren't there for social statuses and relationships. It happened anyway, and that was fine, but it just wasn't for me. As a Goth, I would be labeled a freak; and I _hated_ the thought of a boyfriend. It actually worked out for the better. How many boys would want to date or even flirt with a freaky Goth girl? So I guess another emotion added to dread and excitement would be _relief_. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted from my studies thanks to a stupid boy that couldn't take a hint. Besides, even if one did seem kind enough, how could I trust them? How could I know for a fact that they wouldn't end up hurting me...or worse?

I yawned and pulled my arms back behind my head to stretch. It always felt good, even if something popped. I looked to the other side of the room to find an empty dorm bed. So maybe I wasn't going to have a roommate. I couldn't tell whether I was happy about that or disappointed. Goth or not, I was still a girl, and every girl like to talk to someone about something at one point or another. I personally wasn't into gossip or sorts, but even for me, getting something off my chest let me be at rest for a moment. And then I would end up worrying about what they would think of it. I really shouldn't have cared but for some reason I did.

At Cumberland, I realized that I would seriously stand out here. Most of the people had either thick or subtle Tennessean accents. Me? I had no real accent. They had non-Goth clothes. Me? I was dressed in nothing but black and purple.

I sighed and made my way to my first class.

Inside the building was bustling with students, each trying to make their first class on time so as to make a good impression on the teacher/professor/whatever. I was good that way—I always had perfect attendance, always came in on time, and studied like _crazy_ to make top-notch grades. My GPA was a 4.0 on a 4.0 scale. My ACT score was as high as it could be, backing up my perfect GPA. I never missed an assignment and if I got sick, I took all the make-up work and extra credit given to me and completed it by the time I was feeling better. In my teachers' eyes, I was the perfect student. I just hoped I could pull that title off in college... Label may have been a freaky Goth girl, but they could laugh all they wanted to because I could get into any college I wanted and had earned a ton of scholarships to help pay for it. So let them laugh now, and let me laugh later.

I could've attended Harvard, Yale, Stanford, or even Brown if I wanted, but those colleges were more business-centric. My dream job wasn't numbers and legal dealings. I wanted to be an artist, and I was really good at it! All forms of art, I studied. I even studied it for fun, just so I could know more about it. Poetry was my favorite form of writing. Drawing was my favorite form of easel art. And photography was my favorite form of frame art. But in all honesty, I loved art period. Cumberland had a good art course, so naturally I would accept it.

I was more than excited to go to my first class when I found out that it was drawing, shading with charcoal—I was more used to pencils than pastels and charcoal so this would be a great start for me—and adding so much detail that it looked real. Basically, its objective was to make one perfect the art form it was dedicated to.

I hastily ran into the classroom and was amazed to see how big it was. In front was a large stage for the teacher. In back was a chalkboard, numerous art supplies, examples of art, and other things that all referred to art. I immediately decided that no matter what, this would be my favorite class. I was too absorbed in it to think about the other classes.

I noticed that most seats were already being taken and I assumed everyone else was the same—first day, first impression. If this was anything like high school the first impression stage would last all of one week before becoming a bunch of immature teenagers trying to flirt and play around with one another.

I quickly took my seat, thankfully in the second row, close to the stage.

It was a dreary fifteen more minutes of hushed whispering and mumbling before the teacher came in. The teacher, of all people, was fifteen minutes late! To her own class no less! I wondered why it took so long. But once she appeared, I scrambled to get straighten out my things, opening my notebook, holding a pencil, and focusing on everything being moved around to make space for me to work.

The teacher looked up at us, eyeing us individually as if judging us before uttering a single word. It was creepy. When her eyes landed on me, I grew nervous, hoping I could keep up my "perfect student" title. So let everyone call me a teacher's pet; wasn't like I cared—I actually took that as a compliment for all my hard work.

The entire room grew eerily silent and this sense of pure dread fell over me, like a thick fog.

Finally, after taking a quick glance to the right—my right, not hers—she introduced herself. "My name is Mrs. Slender." At this everyone snickered. "And if you dare call me Slenderwoman you'll be in for a world of trouble and a truckload of extra work." I liked her way of thinking; she stood up to that stupid nickname, something most teachers simply ignored.

"I'll get straight to the point. This class deals more with the perfection of detail in your creativity. Most of your assignments will be based on your own mind—whatever you think of will be your work, and I'll be judging your drawings no matter what they may be. Again, creativity is essential to art _and_ this class, so I suggest you start thinking up ideas for future assignments. Since this is your first day, however, I'm going to be lenient. For the first few weeks you will have an example to go off of. Later on, these examples will come from memory. For now, though, I would like to introduce our first model—Thunder," she explained.

Thunder...? Did she mean a painting or a sculpture...? She said some of it would be from memory, and some of it would be from the imagination; but she also said that would come later.

My question was answered—or so I originally thought anyway—when a familiar character walked onto the stage from the right, from the side where Mrs. Slender had looked at. He had messy black hair that hung over his forehead. His eyes were a baby blue color—kind of pretty, actually. He was a little on the short side, probably as tall as Danny when he wasn't floating. And finally, he was a scrawny thing; obviously someone who wouldn't win in a fight against the other boys in this school. For a brief moment I wondered if he was like me, someone who was labeled as an outcast. I couldn't really place my finger on who he was though...

"Um...no cameras, please!" he shouted to the class.

The boy spared a quick look at me and almost immediately turned his eyes to the floor. I didn't miss the slight pink ribbon that bridged his cheeks and nose. He cleared his throat and still refused to look at anyone. I could help but think it was something I did. Maybe it was just because I was so paranoid about losing something that I organized what I had.

He cleared his throat again and snapped his fingers a couple times, motioning for someone to come over. He added two quick whistles, much like the ones I heard when the dogs were called away from my car as I drove through Tennessee, and made another swift gesture with his hand—one that said "come on".

I waited with anticipation for about a minute, but nothing happened. I heard a slight rustling sound but other than that, there was just nothing.

The boy let out one small, embarrassed laugh and clicked his tongue a few times. "Come." He held his finger out and curled it up, making another "come here" gesture.

As he continued trying to get whoever it was to come onto the stage, I noticed a black...hose, maybe?...that was slung over his shoulder and around his chest like it was some sort of bulky sash.

It looked like he finally had enough and took a deep breath letting it out in the form of a high whistle.

Immediately, there was a response from the other side—but it wasn't a person.

"Um...he's not entirely used to this whole modeling thing..." the boy nervously laughed out. "But he's very tame."

I was wondering what he meant—it was obviously an animal but I was thinking it was a dog or something.

The animal thudded onto the stage and halted when it was near the boy—I assumed this boy to be either its owner or caretaker.

"Are you sure he's completely tame? He's no threat at all?" Mrs. Slender questioned. It sounded more like she was asking him to put our minds at ease.

"No, ma'am," he answered. Turning to the _horse_, he commanded, "Whinny."

Thunder whinnied, just like the boy asked him to do. I was surprised. To train a horse to do that was something I'd never even heard of! How _did_ he train that horse anyway? It was incredible! The skills needed to train such a huge animal was a lot, I knew, but to train one to actually _speak?_ That was both impressive and insane—the insanity resting in the fact that he would even _think_ to train a horse to do this.

"Around," he said, pointing a finger upward and swirling it.

This horse was amazing... He walked calmly around the boy, completing one circle before stopping in front of him and awaiting the next order.

"Up," he continued, jerking his index finger skyward.

Thunder reared, standing on his hind legs for a few seconds before coming back down to all fours—at the same time the boy brought his arm down.

I found myself smiling at the unreal obedience of one single horse. Did this horse happen to be a rodeo horse or something? Show horse? Whatever Thunder was, he had been trained to the extreme. He didn't perform any real tricks, but then again, we weren't exactly in a corral.

The boy turned from Thunder to the teacher and asked, "Is that enough proof?"

As if having seen this before—which amazed me even more—she nodded and gestured to the rest of the class. The boy turned to the class and moved up the aisles, sitting just three rows up from me, at the very edge seat. I assumed the edge part of this was for extra safety; although seeing how that horse so readily obeyed him made it obvious to everyone that no safety was needed.

"I want everyone to draw an exact replica of Thunder on your art pads," Mrs. Slender instructed. "Make sure to get the shading right—pay attention to how to the light hits the horse."

I immediately got to work, the flashes of how well Thunder acted never once leaving my mind. I did have to take in Thunder's features to get started though. He had a smoky gray coat with a black mane and tail. His nose had a white, somewhat jagged stripe on it—probably why his name was "Thunder"—and the area right above his hooves were white. All in all, he was beautiful. The way the light struck him didn't necessarily make him any more or less pretty and hardly affected his main features, but it did add a little more detail to his finer features. It was a little annoying that he kept moving his head and shifting his hooves a little. That kind of movement adjusted the shading on him and made him more difficult to draw.

I got through his more obvious frame quickly but had a little trouble shading his legs, neck, and face.

I was almost done when something bright made me blink. An immediate gasp was taken by someone as another flash came. I held my palm to the side of my eyes so I could see without being blinded.

"Stop," someone behind me said.

Thunder's shoulders and hindquarters started getting twitchy and his ears were laid back.

Another flash.

"Stop!" the same person yelled. "I said no cameras!"

That would explain the blinding effect. And it was the boy—Thunder's owner/caretaker—that had clearly ruled out the option of photography before we started our assignments.

I noticed that Thunder's twitching was growing more violent and his hooves were starting to lift. He was getting uncomfortable.

"Relax, Stable Boy, I'm only taking a _few_ pictures," another voice said.

"I said don't take any!" "Stable Boy" shouted defensively.

Another flash and Thunder was really starting to get uneasy. Suddenly I saw why "Stable Boy" didn't want anyone to take pictures—the quick, blinding light was scaring Thunder. Normally I would've thought how ironic the name was if he couldn't stand flashing lights, but I myself was getting a little scared. I didn't have any experience with horses but I knew they could go on a rampage if frightened. And this stallion was getting scared.

One more quick flash was all it took to send Thunder over the edge and he screamed out, his cute whinny turning into a loud screech as he began repeatedly rearing up and letting himself back down.

Suddenly the flashes stopped and "Stable Boy" abandoned his seat, rushing down the aisle to calm the horse down.

I saw a few people get up and run to the back of the room, all the way to the top. They watched anxiously as the boy darted onto the stage, where Thunder was beginning to go wild. I stood up and moved onto the aisle, but only retreated a little ways up. I was dying to see just how well Thunder would obey the boy now.

The horse's screams rang incessantly throughout the room in frequent pulses and "Stable Boy" kept running circles around the horse to calm him down. His words were audible only during the short period of time that Thunder was silent—aside from the constant pounding of hooves on the floor.

"...down...okay...stop it, Thun..." But his words were literally useless and Thunder was already starting to race around the stage. I was so glad the idiot who caused this had stopped taking pictures. I didn't like _males_ but I didn't want anyone to get hurt! And seeing someone walk around in a confined area with a horse gone mad... Did I even _need_ to finish that sentence? His chances of coming out of this unscathed were slim to none. He might as well be certain to break a bone. And all because some complete moron didn't listen to him...

Suddenly the beautiful stallion became an angry beast and ran right past "Stable Boy", across the stage, and reared on his hind legs again. Having watched the horse, I almost missed the boy. He had dropped to the ground in a curled-up position, using his hands to cover his head. He clearly knew a ton about horses, especially if he had trained Thunder so well, so I knew immediately that the horse had almost trampled him. But as stated—_almost_ trampled. "Stable Boy" quickly hopped back onto his feet in an amazing catlike movement. He was just in time to avoid an angry Thunder once more, this time being thrown back without having time to duck down. The animal was now raging out of control and it dashed everywhere—the stage, partially up the stairs, at which some people fled the room, and nearly over the boy. To think that all this happened from an idiot carrying a camera...

Well note to self—listen to "Stable Boy" in the presence of a horse.

Suddenly it seemed as if the boy had finally had enough. He reached around his shoulder and pulled off the black...hose...thing...? I watched in horror as he raised it into the air. It had a handle on one end. It was long. It grew slimmer and slimmer near its end. It was a _whip_...

I closed my eyes and almost cried when I heard the sharp crack of it—Danny would never have done this. But then I realized...the horse wasn't screaming any more than it already was. It wasn't in pain...

I dared to open one eye. He wasn't trying to whip the horse...he was whipping the floor _near_ the horse. The sharp crack was from the ground, not contact with the animal. It still didn't necessarily mean that he wouldn't whip the poor horse, but at least he was only trying to get its attention.

But he was failing miserably. Thunder wouldn't calm down and wouldn't even look at his owner/caretaker. Now that I'd seen the whip, I assumed he was actually horse tamer, which would perfectly explain why he knew so much about horses and how to train them so incredibly.

It had to be a full minute of whipping the floor, which only seemed to frighten the horse even more. It was then that he did something extremely reckless.

He waited until Thunder came rushing back toward him and at first it looked like he was running away from the animal. But he picked up his speed when Thunder approached him. The horse came up to his side and that was when we all saw him carry out such a dangerous plan. He grabbed onto the horse's neck and threw one leg over its back—all while the horse was still running. He was still pretty much hanging off the side, which effectively threw the horse off balance, but we were all starting to doubt whether or not he could successfully climb onto Thunder. And Thunder didn't have a saddle, bridle, or halter; so "Stable Boy" didn't have anything but the horse itself to hold on to.

The horse tried to regain its proper balance by turning around, giving its rider the perfect opportunity to use his weight to his advantage and mount the horse. He was now riding bareback and I could so easily guarantee that everyone was worried. Bet no more pictures would be taken...

Thunder didn't seem to like this very much and began bucking _hard_ to throw the boy off.

I heard a wave of gasps flow throughout the crowd behind me as we all watched him. Somehow he was managing to stay on the horse even while it was becoming violent.

He used all his strength to pull on the horse's neck. Thunder came to a stop on his hind legs and pawed at the air, clearly wanting to be let back down. All he could do was move backwards.

"Back! Backbackback!" "Stable Boy" shouted to the animal.

It awed me—and probably everyone else—to watch as that horse really did move back, all the while continuing to stand up on his back legs.

It wasn't too long before the boy let go of Thunder's neck, seeming to allow the horse back on all fours. It was a sight to behold... "Stable Boy" had done it—he calmed Thunder down. The horse's breathing was just as uneven and ragged as the boy's.

He gently patted the horse's neck. "Good boy..."

He slid off Thunder's back and ran a hand through his messy locks.

He then turned towards us all and apologized. "He's actually a good horse..." he rasped. "Just got a little scared...that's all..."

His last action was a command to Thunder. "Down."

The horse all but collapsed onto the floor, lying down just as the boy told him to.

Today was the second most eventful day of my entire life—there could be nothing more interesting than watching a scrawny stable boy almost kill himself trying to take down a raging stallion with nothing but his bare hands.

**A/N**

**:/ I'm a little confused as to what happened here. This story started off with nine reviews. Nine reviews for the FIRST CHAPTER. :( And it's just declining. What exactly happened...? I love getting reviews, your thoughts give me insight as to what you do and don't like or find interesting in the story. If you say "lol" to something, I know you liked it and it gives me ideas for future chapters. **

**So please, if you have a thought, any thought at all, even if you don't think it's worth it...post it in a review because every "lol" and "omg" counts.**


	8. Chapter 8

~Chapter 8~

Well...today was either a blessing or a disappointment. I was unable to complete my art classes—any of them thanks to Thunder. The idiot who flashed his camera was suspended, which in my eyes was the perfect punishment for enraging a stallion in the middle of class. The rest of the day was spent caring for the boy and the horse—mostly the horse. Apparently none of us had seen it—we had all assumed he hadn't been touched—but he really had taken a few hits from the hooves and almost sprained his ankle _and _wrist. And with the single time I had caught him curled up, he really _had_ been trampled. From what I heard, one of the horse's hooves had come crashing down on the side of his arm, leaving his skin split. It was bad; they even had to use stitching to help patch him up. I could only hope, for his sake, that the arm he hurt wasn't the arm he used to write or draw. I could only imagine how painful it would be to tighten a tendon connected to the wrist.

The horse wasn't any better. The floor Thunder had been stampeding on didn't have the traction needed to actually support the angles of his legs. Two of his ankles had twisted. It seemed like "Stable Boy" knew more about horses than I first thought. He was actually the one tending to the injuries, identifying when they happened, how they happened, and where the precise source was. According to rumors floating around the school—I had no clue whether they were true or not being as I wasn't there to see any of the aftermath—the boy said that Thunder was lucky to have survived at all. He said that if Thunder had actually _broken _an ankle, he wouldn't be able to stand. Horses that couldn't stand couldn't function properly—it was harder for them to breathe, drink, eat, and exercise. They would have to be put down.

I was sure the boy's weight while clinging to Thunder's side didn't help his ankles. Honestly, though, I couldn't blame "Stable Boy". He did what he could to calm the horse down without hurting it. He was able to both calm the horse down, and save its life.

I sighed as I dropped everything on the—and by "the" I mean "my", since I was still lacking a roommate—dorm's desk. I was pretty lucky to have no homework today—or any work period. I brought out my unfinished drawing of Thunder before he went wild and looked it over.

The shading was amazing considering Thunder kept moving around. Naturally I didn't expect him to be a statue but that didn't make it any less annoying.

I was just starting to massage my shoulder when I heard a polite knock on the door. Well, geez, my roommate sure was late...

I sighed, somewhat offended that my new roommate was probably a slacker, and went to open the door.

I couldn't believe my _eyes_ when I saw who was standing in front of me. Or rather..._floating_ in front of me.

"Danny?" I whispered, wanting to keep a good level of discretion—if he really was a fugitive, I didn't want to be seen with him; but I could also be wrong about him being a fugitive.

I motioned for him to come in—if my mother knew I let Danny into my dorm room, she would have a coronary.

He smiled and glided inside, resting in a corner at the far end of the room, close to the ceiling.

He wiggled his fingers just like he had at the hospital and said, "Boo."

I noticed that he still hadn't made eye contact. Was he _trying_ to bug me, by any chance?

"What are you doing here? And how did you find me?" I asked.

He turned his head a little to the side and stared at my drawing. "I heard about what happened at Cumberland University today—you know, with that horse? It was really stupid that they made that kid bring a horse into a college to model for an art class. Anyway, I saw you there and I was worried about your concussion—I know for a fact it hasn't completely healed—so I sort of kept an eye on you, followed you around—"

"So you stalked me," I interrupted.

He blushed madly and tried to redirect my attention to my drawing along with completely change the subject. Nice. I had a ghost stalker.

He floated down to the point where his feet almost touched the floor and carefully picked up Thunder's incomplete portrait. I personally thought that anything incomplete was bad, but he whistled in awe.

"Did you really draw this?" he asked.

I shrugged in response. "I tried to draw that horse you heard about, Thunder, but he kept shifting around. I know it's not perfect and I know it's not done but...you know..."

He jerked his head back and gained an appalled expression. "What?! Not perfect?! It looks exactly like a professional artist did this!" He laughed. "You know, I wish I could draw this well. The only subject I'm good at is Anatomy."

"When you were alive?" I questioned.

He slumped onto my bed and sighed. "Yeah."

It took me a moment to realize what I'd just said. That could've really offended him or upset him.

I cleared my throat and tried again. "Well...my Achilles heel happens to be Anatomy. How much do you know?"

As I had hoped, he shot right up. However, he held his head down. "I love Anatomy but I don't really know that much about it."

Liar.

"Well, I've always wondered about the names of the two colons..." I intentionally let my voice linger for a bit but in all honesty I really didn't know about the names of colons or anything.

"I don't really know. I guess I just never really bothered with it and stuff, you know?" he replied.

Another honest statement of mine, "Well I decided to challenge myself in college and I'm taking Anatomy. Anything you know would be helpful."

He looked in my direction, but it looked like he was staring at my knees.

"Well...there are actually four colons: the ascending, transverse, descending, and sigmoid. The sigmoid is the very last one and it's located right about the rectum. Likewise, the ascending colon is the first one and it marks the beginning of the large intestines. Transverse moves across the small intestines and drops. That drop is the descending colon," he explained.

"But if everything you eat just keeps going down, why is it called the 'ascending' colon?" I asked, more to keep him going if anything else—he was already proving to me that he lied about his level of intelligence out of modesty. He was just as smart as I was, except I wasn't too bright in this particular subject.

He laid back down on my bed and put his hands under his head.

"Because the other colons are inferior to the ascending colon and they can't use 'descending' twice. They always have to come up with confusing words for everything—it's vocab 101," he said.

"No kidding..." I muttered. "I mean, transverse is fine since the word actually matches the way the colon is set, but what about that stupid 'sigmoid' thing? It sounds like a nerd named Sigmund decided to name his awesome little discovery after himself but changed it up so it sounds less dorky."

"Actually, the word 'sigmoid' just means 'S-shaped'," he replied.

Apparently he didn't catch on to my sarcasm. But he was incredibly smart in the field of Anatomy. At least about the digestive system anyway. And the best part was that he wasn't being some stupid, immature boy who only cared about satisfying his male hormones. Then again, he was a dead person's spirit and I didn't actually think of him as a boy. Well, his gender, yes, but the boys I was used to, no. This one could possibly be trustworthy... I mean...he wasn't human—not anymore.

But if I chose to trust him beyond tolerating his presence, I didn't know what would happen to me. Part of me really didn't want to think about it.

And what if this was all one big act? Something to get close to me? What if he was faking it? If he wanted what I was thinking, that had been taken away a long time ago. He would be disappointed if he dared to try anything.

Wait. Why exactly was I thinking this way? He gave me a concussion but that was an accident. What did he ever do wrong?

I mentally scolded myself for judging the poor thing—the one that had been shocked twice just to make sure I would be okay. And then he heard about what happened with the horse and worried about my concussion, which hadn't completely healed yet. I was fine and able to function properly, but it was still there and occasionally it ached. Other than that, he simply stayed with me to make sure I was fine.

"So...I have a question for you," I said, continuing only when he nodded. "Why do you care about humans?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

"Well you stayed with me at the hospital and wore a shock collar like an animal to make sure I would be okay. Then you heard about the incident in art class and worried about my health. Why do you even care about stuff like that? You're a ghost—you're not supposed to," I replied.

He sat up and let his arms drop limply to his sides.

"Maybe I'm a little different..." he sighed out.

At first I thought he was just nervous but now he seemed flat out exhausted. I wondered if he could've been fighting another ghost, but I'd pushed it enough with the question I just asked him and I didn't want to overload him. It was clear that he wasn't anywhere near as energetic as he was back at the hospital—the last time we talked.

"What's the matter? Tired?" I asked.

He yawned in a perfect response to my question, reminding me of something a little kid would do in a cartoon.

"Nah," he yawned. "I'm fine. Just been a little bit of a busy day—you know, with all the ghosts and stuff."

I immediately jumped up, which startled him and caused him to jump back a few feet in the air. I assumed that was a natural reaction for him—turning to safety in the air rather than vulnerability on the ground. I wished I'd had that on certain occasions...

"Speaking of!" I yelled to him, unintentionally making my voice louder. "What exactly _are_ you, Danny?"

The most confused expression I had ever seen on anyone washed over his face and he could only look at me—still not in my eyes—for the longest of times. It caused a thick silence and I could tell he was wondering how to respond to that. I knew he was at a loss for words and therefore I had singlehandedly murdered our conversation. Why did I ask him what he was anyway? The answer was so obvious—he was probably wondering how I could be so dumb yet get accepted into Cumberland.

After a while, he finally replied, "I'm a ghost. Um. Well I mean...just...yeah, I'm a ghost. I'm sorry if that's not the answer you're looking for, but...why would you ask something like that? I can understand if you see a problem with me being dead and you being...well, alive. I can leave if you want."

I quickly backpedaled. "No! No, you don't have to leave! I didn't mean to insult you—I know you're a ghost; I know you're dead. Honestly I don't have a problem with it. Ghost boys are okay, it's only the human boys I hate. So you're fine, I promise."

The only real...eh...semi-friend I guess...I had in this new, foreign land, and I knew for a fact that I had offended him.

"Why do you hate boys? Bad luck with boyfriends? Friend had a bad boyfriend?" he questioned.

I had no problem with him asking me that, but I did have a serious problem answering it truthfully. He could think it was romance issues all he wanted but it was for the better...

I opted to sidestep his question and steer him away with, "When I asked you what you were, I didn't mean it like you took it. What I meant was, am I harboring a fugitive or a friend?"

He frowned at me. "Sam, look at me. I am a stick figure. Do you honestly think I'm an escaped prisoner?"

"Well...you did say something about a ghost wanting to throw you in jail..." I pointed out.

His frown turned upside down. "The ghost's name is Walker—"

"Wait, just, real quick—_Walker?_" I interrupted.

He chuckled. "Don't ask. Anyway, he holds one heck of a grudge. Truth is, I really was put in prison, and I really am a fugitive...sort of. I was unfairly put in his prison and it wasn't a misunderstanding—he literally just wanted me in his jail. See, I'm a wanted ghost not just by Walker, but by all the ghosts I've fought. The one that wants to skin me and hang my pelt? That's Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter—"

"Hold up. Why would anyone want to hunt you? Does this have to do with your breakout from prison? Like a bounty hunt?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nope, the two are completely irrelevant. Skulker wants my pelt because I struggled too hard against him when I wouldn't let him trap me inside a cage. He got frustrated."

"Why does every ghost want you?"

He shook his head again. "If there's one thing all ghosts have, it's an obsession. Skulker's obsession is hunting. Walker's obsession is jailing people—or in his case, other ghosts. Ember's obsession is music. Technus' obsession is technology. The Box Ghost's obsession is boxes. Klemper's obsession is the urge to make friends. Desiree's obsession is granting wishes. The Wisconsin Dairy King's obsession is cheese. Spectra's obsession is misery. Every ghost has an obsession. Sometimes that obsession keeps them from moving on. So they're stuck here in the human world and can't really rest in peace. For those trapped here, there's another dimension—the flipside of our dimension, actually—called the Ghost Zone."

Obsessions... "So, you said each ghost has an obsession. What exactly is your obsession, Danny?"

He started fidgeting with his fingers and chewing on his lower lip. "I don't...I don't have one."

"But you said every ghost has one," I countered.

For the first time since he came to my dorm, he looked into my eyes. "I don't have an obsession. All these ghosts want me because I'm different. I don't haunt anyone, anything, or anyplace. I don't intentionally scare children. I don't use my powers to get involved in wrongdoings. I stop them from doing anything to hurt humans. I..." He paused for a moment. "I don't...really have a purpose. I don't know why I'm here; I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

I couldn't help but feel bad for him. He seemed to be pretty nice—and anyone that nice deserved a little of my attention.

"I died, so it's not like I have a life to live," he finished.

Wait...that was it. That was it!

"Danny, you're still here because you haven't lived life to its fullest!" I exclaimed. "If you do what normal teenagers do, maybe you'll be able to move on to the next life...or wherever ghosts go."

"Sounds legitimate," he sighed out, "but how can a ghost do anything without making people uncomfortable? Normal teenagers don't make people uncomfortable."

That was an excellent point. I couldn't help but begin thinking about all the things Danny never got to do. But there were obviously things he did do. Unless he was kind of like me... I studied studied studied to make so many good grades. Danny was incredibly smart in Anatomy—or at very least about the digestive system. Did he study just as much as I did and miss out on all the things teens were supposed to do? My assumption was yes, because the life he never had was what kept him bound to this world.

"D-" I stopped short when I turned around to see him reading one of my exposed romance novels.

Great... I guess it was okay for him to know though... I mean, he was a guy, and I was a girl. Guys didn't care if girls liked those kinds of books. It was probably just a "meh..." feeling for them. I was Goth, true, but he didn't seem to be very judgmental. And if he was, he sure wasn't showing it.

Wait a minute... Why would Danny be reading a book all about romance? He— Oh no... I snickered. He couldn't seriously like my kind of books...! And he looked so focused, too! Oh, this was just funny!

"Danny!" I laughed out. "What are you doing over there?"

He turned his head toward me but kept his eyes glued to the book. "Huh?"

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

His eyes still didn't leave that book. "Ummm, just...just one second," he mumbled.

Did he even know I was here? He seemed to be completely absorbed in that thing. Not that I had a problem with it, but I'd never seen a guy so interested in reading about sappy, mushy crap that I myself was embarrassed to read. But I did understand why he was so interested. I mean, romance was complicated sometimes. "Tears of the Stars" was just that, a book about a young man making his way through life in search of the right girl.

"Danny?"

He took a breath. "Hold on, I just need to get past this one part... It's um... It's..." His voice trailed off as his head leaned further into the book.

"Danny, is anyone in there?" I called, thinking about knocking on his head.

"Okay, okay!" he grunted. "Just one more minute!"

He could not seriously love "Tears of the Stars" that much. I figured it was only _girls_ who were allowed to be that consumed by a book. It was a great book, but this was absurd. I didn't even get to finish that book. I was almost done, but I never got to finish it. So far I just knew that Alex had found Miranda and began realizing that this was the girl he had been searching for all those years. At the rate Danny was going, he would have the whole thing done by tomorrow!

I walked over to him and tapped his shoulder a couple times. He jerked and looked up at me. Suddenly embarrassment crossed him and his face immediately put a tomato to shame.

"You really like that book, huh?" I playfully teased.

He cast a quick glance at the book and jumped up—it surprised me that a) he'd been sitting cross-legged on the ground, and b) when he jumped up, his feet were still touching the ground. I wondered if it was because he felt safe near me.

"I-I, um, no!" he fumbled. "I was just, you know, it fell down and so I was thinking about putting it back on the shelf for you, um...because it was on the floor. And, uh, I just, you know, sort of um, had to read the title part of it to do that whole librarian thing, you know? Kind of alphabetize the books and whatnot but I'm sure you know that already, so...I mean, yeah, but no, I-I definitely wasn't reading it! I mean, come on, right? It's a fluffy romance thingy, and I really hate those anyway, so you tell me why I would be actually read a book that I don't like."

A nervous chuckle came from his mouth and I smiled. Of course he wasn't interested...

"Well _excuse_ me for liking all that 'crap'. I happen to really like it, and if you have a problem with that then—"

"No!" he yelped. "No, I-I don't have a problem with it at all! I-I think it's cute—" He stopped, letting his mouth hang open in mid-sentence. "Uh...c-cute...that...you...would...like...that... stuff..."

"Cute? Look, Inviso-Bill," I said, sarcastically insulting him, "I don't do cute. I do dark, gory, and tragic."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to say cute, I meant to say...uh..." He cleared his throat, pretending that there was actually something to clear there. "Sorry, throat. Just...you know. It's just...I didn't know you were into romance novels, that's all. I didn't think you were."

"Personally, I've never once seen a boy so interested in romance before. But I have to say, it's pretty unique," I said. Before he had a chance to say anything, I added, "Unique is good."

I took the book from him and went to my desk to look for a bookmark. I could feel the smile on his face.

"So...you don't mind that I like romance novels? Well, I'm just saying that if I was, then you wouldn't mind? I'm not really partial to it—"

"Mm-hm, I'm sure," I drawled.

I found a paper bookmark with ravens on its cover and stuck it in the page he'd left off at. Closing the book, I walked back up to him and shoved it into his chest, forcing him to hold it.

"Wh...What's this?" he asked.

"It's the book you like so much." I smirked at the memory of how engrossed he was in it. "You can borrow it for however long you need. And I have a ton of other books you can choose from. Whenever you get done with one, you can come back and take your pick."

I heard him snort and knew he was trying to pretend like he didn't care.

"Thanks. I doubt I'll even finish this one though." He flipped it open to where the bookmark was and looked down for a second before lifting his eyes again...only to look back down at the book. "I'm not reading it by the way, I'm just... I need to brush up on my vocabulary and grammar...and stuff..."

I rolled my eyes, unable to believe how quickly he had become reabsorbed in the book.

I tapped him on the shoulder again. "Danny."

He snapped up and shut the book. "I wasn't doing anything! I was just looking at the words...consecutively." He sighed heavily. "Okay... I really like romance novels... But I never get to read them! I can't go into a store to buy any and a library is off limits. I'm a ghost and even if I were allowed in there without freaking people out, I'm a guy! Guys aren't supposed to like this stuff; it's just for girls..." He huffed in frustration.

I knew how he felt. I wasn't a ghost, but I was a Goth. Goths weren't supposed to be interested in anything but dreary, bleak genres. But I was the black sheep. I guess he was the odd one out. We both had the same forbidden love of romance novels and it was awful to have all those books so close within our reach, yet so far away. It was brutal.

"Yeah," I sighed out, "I know how you feel. I'm a Goth and we aren't supposed to like this stuff. But hey, I've accumulated a ton of romance novels, so I can share."

He looked at the cover of "Tears of the Stars" and smiled.

**A/N**

**:'D OMG. I seriously cannot believe this! The reviews went from 52 to 74! I want to hug you so bad! :D **

**PLEASE keep 'em coming! Please oh please oh please! You have no CLUE how much drive this gave me! I wrote over 4,000 words on this one chapter because of your reviews! They mean so much and they're like my fuel! PLEASE I BEG YOU, keep reviewing to the sky's limit! Any thoughts? Anyone willing to add wood to my little brain fire? Please do!**


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